Thursday, 4 Mai. The Day
Its Friday morning and I’m finally finding time and energy to pare down and distill the myriad of happenings related to my entry to Paris. Each day has been too much. I slept well, from exhaustion, the first night here and since then it has been nonstop over-stimulation with little ability to yoga breathe myself back to sleep. Last night was an improvement.
Yesterday, because I got up earlier, may have been the most packed so far. I started off with a trip to the Bastille market with views along the way of shops I wanted to go back to which were closed because it was not yet 10 am. The market was less than I thought it might be but the highlight was a fantastic flapper (probably at least 80 years old) dancing to the loud and peppy music of young musicians (her grandchildren?) one on wind instruments and the other on a little piano he had brought to the scene. Pictures!
I returned to the Cité with my few vegetables and fruits by way of an English bookstore (The Red Wheelbarrow) where I picked up The Paris Times which said that the Bonnard show would be closing on Monday. Since I hoped to go at least twice, I decided to make that my Thursday afternoon activity. But first I wandered into the print shop in the Cité, just to see what printing here might be like, to get the lay of the land, so to speak. There I met an artist from India, Anjou, who said that she was having an opening at gallery in the 7 arr. that night. I made a mental note to go to the opening.
The print shop was one large room with one medium sized press, about the size of the one I have on the Cape. There were little tables set up all around and people kept their materials under the tables and in small lockers. A lot like art school. There was a rosin box with a crank and bags of rosin belonging to the studio and two heating mechanisms for melting the rosin, once the powder had fallen on the plate. One was an alcohol burner, something I had never seen before. For printing in this shop, one was obliged to buy his/her own blankets, plates (of course), tarletin and acid. I did not see any ventilation. Two people told me it was overcrowded there, and that there would be a meeting each Friday at noon to divide the schedule up for the following week. This was the way to avoid chaos, to plan who would be printing when. One could use the shop to work on plates at any time, but would have to use the press only during hours allotted during that meeting, the Friday before. None of the artists there were living in the Cité now but were residents of Paris and supposedly had been at the Cité at one time or another.
I went back to the Cité to schedule for and pay for the usage of the shop the weeks of May 15 and 22. I decided I needed a week to get organized and buy materials for this if I were really going to do it.
Then I headed to the Modern Art Museum for Bonnard. It was about 2 PM.
Finding the museum on the metro, getting in (which was easier with my Cité museum card) and going through it slowly and carefully took until about 5:30 pm when the Museum was closing. Then there was a vernissage, an opening, for Anjou which was to begin not before 6:30. I decided to get there slowly. I took a metro and walked, stopping at an outdoor café for a Perrier. This was near the Rodin Museum, where I had been many times before, on other visits to Paris.
It was a nice opening. Anjou was one of three artists showing and two of her pieces, a large yellow and green abstract painting and a print, had already been sold. I read about her there and learned that she had been born in India, had spent a lot of time in Paris and also had been a student of Hayter. She was a year younger than I. Surprising to me was that her work was selling for less than mine. Since she seemed like a very established artist, I wondered how she supported herself. I learned that this was the third show she had had this year.
Walking back to the Cite (an hour and a half walk +for me) filled the rest of the day. I walked over my favorite bridge in Paris, le Pont des Arts, a wooden walking bridge between the Ecole Des Beaux Arts and the Louvre. Here I saw lots of activity, including a group of young people sitting on the wooden bridge, with bagettes and wine, having a magnificent supper.
Walking through the traffic, I got to the apartment at about 9PM and ate some of the veggies I had bought in the Bastille along with some prepared chicken from Rue St. Antoine (one of Gary Tenenbaum’s terrific recommendations) and drank some of my FranPrix Muscadet. So Parisian!
Yesterday, because I got up earlier, may have been the most packed so far. I started off with a trip to the Bastille market with views along the way of shops I wanted to go back to which were closed because it was not yet 10 am. The market was less than I thought it might be but the highlight was a fantastic flapper (probably at least 80 years old) dancing to the loud and peppy music of young musicians (her grandchildren?) one on wind instruments and the other on a little piano he had brought to the scene. Pictures!
I returned to the Cité with my few vegetables and fruits by way of an English bookstore (The Red Wheelbarrow) where I picked up The Paris Times which said that the Bonnard show would be closing on Monday. Since I hoped to go at least twice, I decided to make that my Thursday afternoon activity. But first I wandered into the print shop in the Cité, just to see what printing here might be like, to get the lay of the land, so to speak. There I met an artist from India, Anjou, who said that she was having an opening at gallery in the 7 arr. that night. I made a mental note to go to the opening.
The print shop was one large room with one medium sized press, about the size of the one I have on the Cape. There were little tables set up all around and people kept their materials under the tables and in small lockers. A lot like art school. There was a rosin box with a crank and bags of rosin belonging to the studio and two heating mechanisms for melting the rosin, once the powder had fallen on the plate. One was an alcohol burner, something I had never seen before. For printing in this shop, one was obliged to buy his/her own blankets, plates (of course), tarletin and acid. I did not see any ventilation. Two people told me it was overcrowded there, and that there would be a meeting each Friday at noon to divide the schedule up for the following week. This was the way to avoid chaos, to plan who would be printing when. One could use the shop to work on plates at any time, but would have to use the press only during hours allotted during that meeting, the Friday before. None of the artists there were living in the Cité now but were residents of Paris and supposedly had been at the Cité at one time or another.
I went back to the Cité to schedule for and pay for the usage of the shop the weeks of May 15 and 22. I decided I needed a week to get organized and buy materials for this if I were really going to do it.
Then I headed to the Modern Art Museum for Bonnard. It was about 2 PM.
Finding the museum on the metro, getting in (which was easier with my Cité museum card) and going through it slowly and carefully took until about 5:30 pm when the Museum was closing. Then there was a vernissage, an opening, for Anjou which was to begin not before 6:30. I decided to get there slowly. I took a metro and walked, stopping at an outdoor café for a Perrier. This was near the Rodin Museum, where I had been many times before, on other visits to Paris.
It was a nice opening. Anjou was one of three artists showing and two of her pieces, a large yellow and green abstract painting and a print, had already been sold. I read about her there and learned that she had been born in India, had spent a lot of time in Paris and also had been a student of Hayter. She was a year younger than I. Surprising to me was that her work was selling for less than mine. Since she seemed like a very established artist, I wondered how she supported herself. I learned that this was the third show she had had this year.
Walking back to the Cite (an hour and a half walk +for me) filled the rest of the day. I walked over my favorite bridge in Paris, le Pont des Arts, a wooden walking bridge between the Ecole Des Beaux Arts and the Louvre. Here I saw lots of activity, including a group of young people sitting on the wooden bridge, with bagettes and wine, having a magnificent supper.
Walking through the traffic, I got to the apartment at about 9PM and ate some of the veggies I had bought in the Bastille along with some prepared chicken from Rue St. Antoine (one of Gary Tenenbaum’s terrific recommendations) and drank some of my FranPrix Muscadet. So Parisian!
posted by Yvette Drury Dubinsky at 12:35 AM
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